


through steam and candlelight

by boom_slap



Series: short studies in pleasure [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Hot Tub Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switching, yeah folks im back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: "Martín," Andrés said one night, pulling him up from where he was stretched out on the couch, reading. "We haven't used the hot tub in forever. I've prepared us a bath."
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: short studies in pleasure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825510
Comments: 7
Kudos: 119





	through steam and candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT. that's it.
> 
> there will be a complementary piece to that, if I manage to actually write it instead of thinking about it xx

Martín never really could tell pain and pleasure apart. It translated well both into his sexual life - always needing harder, rougher, _more_ \- as well as his emotions, which is why he ended up hopelessly following Andrés for more than ten years, resigning himself to being always close, but without the permission to _have.  
_

The thing that surprised him the most in his whole life was when permission was granted, or rather - when Andrés snapped, as he has once said himself, and decided to devour Martín whole.

Since that moment - and even more since they've made it out of the Bank of Spain - Martín's life has become a feverish dream that was bound to be cut short by death at some point, but for now, it was nothing short of intoxicating, maddening, _lovely.  
_

Andrés was the _maestro_ behind it, pulling the strings and wrapping Martín up in his own insanity, in a heated dance. Their relationship before was something akin to the atmosphere before a storm, sparks flying whenever they shared a word, a thought, a touch or a glance, what was happening now was a fire, an apocalypse, a supernova.

Of course, they had their day to day life, they had moments of calm serenity, but that too was dizzying.

"Martín," Andrés said one night, pulling him up from where he was stretched out on the couch, reading. "We haven't used the hot tub in forever. I've prepared us a bath."

He was already wearing a bathrobe, a thing of silk and complicated flourishes that Martín liked to trace with his fingers, without any capacity nor willingness to understand them.

Martín let himself be led through the corridors of their mansion, to the main terrace. The first thing that made him shiver was the heat radiating from the tub, already filled with almost boiling hot water - as they both liked it - and bubbling, the jets buzzing quietly. The second thing was the scent - rose and vanilla, which meant that Andrés has poured oils into the bath, and- oh yes, there were rose petals, too. Martín felt like laughing and crying and the same time. The candles both on the edges of the tub and around it were the finishing touch to the picture, creating an atmosphere that for some would be romantic, but for Martín, it felt like the most exciting trap.

Andrés stepped behind him and put his hands on Martín's waist, leaning down to kiss his neck. It wasn't exactly a kiss, more like a press of open mouth against his skin, the hot breath making Martín weak in the knees. He tilted his head to the side instantly, granting Andrés more acces, but the man pulled away and walked past him, towards the hot tub.

He dropped the bathrobe shamelessly, revealing that he was naked underneath, and walked into the water. He took a seat, stretching his arms out, looking at Martín with a sly grin. Andrés was not just comfortable in his own body, no- he felt _good_ in it, it was clear in the way he moved, in the way he displayed himself, he felt good and powerful and _beautiful_.

Martín had no idea if it was the sight or the hot steam that made him feel dizzy, but as always, Andrés' sharp, strong voice was there to guide him.

"Undress."

And so Martín stepped closer, unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that shook ever so slightly. He was about to drop it to the floor, but Andrés clicked his tongue and Martín's hands immediately froze, waiting for a command.

"Leave it on. I like how it soaks and sticks to your skin," Andrés bit at the tip of his finger in thought, then motioned with said finger, almost lazily. "The briefs, too. I want to see them wet."

One of those days, Martín was going to die. He nodded, his breath already getting heavy and his cock half-hard as he pulled off his pants and socks before stepping into the tub. He couldn't help but let out a loud groan as he knelt down in it, letting his eyelids flutter and close at the hot water enveloping most of his body, almost _forcing_ his muscles to relax on the spot.

"Come here."

His eyes snapped open at Andrés' voice and he grinned, crawling over to where he was sitting, not moving a bit, waiting. Slowly, Martín slid right into his space, centimeters away, smiling like an idiot. Andrés was watching him closely; a moment passed and Martín felt a hand at the back of his head, fingers waving themselves into his hair and then closing into a fist, keeping a tight hold. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, already knowing what to expect; Andrés pulled him into a heated kiss, full of tongue and frankly, an amount of saliva that some would deem unnecessary, but Martín deemed really fucking hot, thank you very much. Andrés kissed him hard, he kissed him obscenely, the hand that was not in Martín's hair coming down to rub against his erection, still covered by the fabric of his briefs. Martín moaned into the kiss, already needy and desperate, aching to be _taken.  
_

Andrés had the capacity to make his mind go blank, overwhelmed by waves of pleasure at the slightest touch, and the pleasure - Martín drowned in it, while Andrés somehow always managed to stay afloat.

Martín craved desperately to get out of his briefs, but Andrés, apparently, had other plans.

"Up," he commanded. "Turn your back to me, one knee against the seat."

Martín had no idea why Andrés wanted him like that, but it didn't matter. Whatever Andrés wanted, he would get. Martín stood up, shivering once his upper body was out of the water. He braced his knee against the seat by the edge of the tub and gasped when Andrés pushed up the shirt plastered to his back and raked his nails down Martín's spine, _surely_ leaving marks.

" _Andrés-"_ he began, but before he had the time to realize that he had spoken for the first time since Andrés came to drag him off the couch, the other man's hands grabbed at his ass and Andrés sunk his teeth into one of his buttocks, through the briefs, hard enough to bruise.

Martín whined, arching his back and nearly losing balance. He felt _exposed_ , embarrassed, and how was that even possible for Andrés to still be able to do that to him, to make him so vulnerable, to humiliate him while also making sure he felt appreciated. Loved.

"You look exquisite," Andrés purred, dragging the briefs down and letting the waistband press against Martín's aching cock until it went past; Andrés immediately grabbed the erection and squeezed at the base, and Martín had to brace himself against the edge of the tub.

Andrés nibbled at the newly exposed skin before pulling Martín down and into his lap, helping him get rid of the underwear completely with his other hand, smiling against the nape of his neck while Martín panted and writhed, the hold on his cock unrelenting.

Finally, Andrés let go and Martín could turn back around to face him, could straddle him and press their groins together, groaning at the friction. He kissed him, taking his face in his hands, ready to beg for Andrés to fuck him, or to let him grind against him until he came, but then, Andrés pushed him off, sudden and aggressive, flipping them around so that Martín was sitting down and Andrés was in his lap, taking complete control over the kiss, his hands resting against Martín's collarbones, thumbs digging in right at the base of his throat.

Without much thinking, Martín put his hands on Andrés' back, touching the heated skin, and Andrés pulled back with a smirk and a spark in his eyes.

"Lower," he said. Martín raised his eyebrows in question, but he obediently let his palms slide down, to the small of his back.

" _Lower._ "

Martín went _lower_ , then, and gasped in shock when he found Andrés _slick._ Andrés grinned like a predator at his surprise, moving swiftly up and then, sitting down on Martín's dick without any warning whatsoever, surrounding him with warmth and pressure, drawing a loud moan out of him.

Martín wrapped his arms around Andrés' waist, burying his face in his chest. He was shaking. He heard Andrés _laugh_ above his head, a dark and delighted sound, even if a little breathless. There were fingers in Martín's hair, stroking and pulling, and Martín was trying his best to compose himself.

He failed, of course, because Andrés' hand found its way to the back of his head yet again and _pulled_ at the hair there, making him look up and meet his gaze. Andrés' other hand pressed against his throat again as he rolled his hips, hissing at the friction, but grinning still.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Good boy."

Martín wanted to ask what the fuck Andrés was doing, but all coherent thought left his head when Andrés started moving again, his grip hard and unrelenting, his thighs pressing against Martín's hips, his cock hard between them. Martín felt like crying with how badly he wanted to suck on it.

"Andrés-... _please._ "

"What are you begging me for, hm?" Andrés asked, letting out a grunt as he picked up the pace before slowing down again. "I'm letting you do this to me, and yet, you're still so helpless, so pliant, oh, _Martín_. It's like you're the one getting fucked, not me."

It was true, Martín realized, whining like a wounded animal at the heat, the almost painful tightness- Andrés threw his head back, exposing his throat that Martín would never dare to bite at, but he began licking and kissing instead, worshipping Andrés as best as he could in this position.

He was the one being used, he could do nothing but hold on and watch as Andrés imposed the tempo, never once letting go of Martín's hair. He looked _divine_ , like a greek god or a vengeful archangel, gracing Martín with the possibility to feel him. Martín could never get enough of watching Andrés experience pleasure, enjoying every moment of it, conscious and present, dominating and controlling every aspect of it, _reveling_ in it, tasting it the way one would taste good wine or delicious food.

"Come like this," Andrés growled, now riding him properly, sweat glistening on his skin, "and I'll be nice enough to fuck you the way you want it, fast and hard, and I'll make you scream until your throat gets sore and you can't anymore."

Martín tried to say something, anything, but he just nodded instead, his fingers digging into Andrés' thighs.

"I know what you need, you need to be filled, to be _owned_ , you need to be fucked senseless, you greedy little thing, I'll make you forget your own name-"

It was the talk that did it, really, and the fact that Andrés was taking pleasure from him so shamelessly. Martín wrapped his arms tightly around Andrés' middle and pressed his face to his chest as he came, moaning without trying to stop it, with Andrés humming above him and murmuring _yes_ and _good_ and _that's right._

Andrés slipped off of his lap, then, and Martín thought for a moment that he was going to have the chance to give him a blowjob; he only had the time to catch his breath a little bit as Andrés got up and reached behind the edge of hot tub before he was back on Martín, kissing him roughly, muffling the sounds of surprise that Martín let out upon seeing the bottle of lube in his hand.

Soon enough, he was being turned around, Andrés' hands strong and insistent. He pushed one of Martín's legs up and then, there were slick fingers preparing him, finding the prostate and massaging it despite his desperate cries.

" _Andrés,_ fuck, I'm not-... _Ah,_ I'm too-..."

"Too sensitive, perhaps? Too bad it's my turn. You sound beautiful, _cariño_ ," Andrés growled, his cock rubbing against the back of Martín's thigh as he leaned down to kiss and bite at his neck.

He pushed in a moment later, grabbing Martín's hips, the force of his thrust making Martín fall forward and grip at the edge of the tub; he screamed, just like Andrés had predicted.

Andrés set out a punishing pace, exactly how Martín liked it, although he was already too overstimulated to appreciate it properly. Still, he enjoyed the mere fact that Andrés was using him, the fact that he was powerless against him, that he could do nothing but _take it._

He moaned loudly, brokenly, on the verge of sobbing when Andrés pushed him down, rearranging him to lean against the seat as he knelt down behind him. The water jets were putting additional pressure on Martín's spent cock, making him shake and choke on his own screams, but Andrés had no mercy; he put one hand to Martín's throat, keeping him in place as he picked up the pace.

Finally, he stilled, burying himself deep inside as he came, pulling Martín up and wrapping both hands around his waist, biting down at his shoulder, still covered with the soaked-through shirt. Andrés gave a few last, lazy thrusts before groaning deeply and pulling out, satisfied at last.

"My perfect darling," he murmured into Martín's ear, pulling him into his lap as he leaned back into the seat, stroking his damp hair. "You were so good to me, as always."

To be honest, the afterglow was Martín's favourite part. He let his body rest against Andrés', heavy and warm, his mind pleasantly empty. There was only Andrés, so close and loving, his hand traveling lazily up and down Martín's neck.

"Alright?" Andrés asked and Martín sighed deeply, turning his head to kiss his jaw and nuzzle the side of his face. He only hummed in response, not exactly able to form words yet, closing his eyes and inhaling Andrés' scent, more comforting than any candles or essential oils.

It felt as if the world didn't exist, as if _Martín himself_ has ceased to exist, as if he'd melted right into Andrés'. As if they were one.


End file.
